Author's Notes: This is my first piece of fiction for this fandom, so be nice!
Warnings: AU where Sansa is a little bit older, the war is still going on, but Sandor's stayed at King's Landing instead of fleeing during the Battle of Blackwater. Besides that...not too graphic depictions of a solo sexual act.
This one's just for fun, so I'm not stressing too much over plot. I hope you enjoy!
It was getting late and she knew that she should have asked for an escort back to her bed chambers but the thought of walking back to her cage so willingly made her sick. She had been kept at King's Landing for so long while Cersei's brother remained a captive of Sansa's own brother, Robb Stark. She wouldn't go back to her cold, empty room where she would spend the rest of her night most likely crying herself to sleep, as she had begun to do almost regularly since the beheading of her beloved father. 'No,' she thought, a new determination spreading through her mind and her spirit as she took an unexpected turn, past the corridor leading to her bed chambers. At first she wasn't sure where she was going to go. Without a guard and with it being so late at night, she knew there were simply places that she could not go, not out of an inability but for her own safety alone. After the way she was attacked during the riot long ago, she knew no man could be trusted to restrain himself when the opportunity was given to him. If it weren't for the King's dog—Sandor Clegane, The Hound, she would have been found in a far worse state than she was.
Sansa pushed the unpleasant memory from her thoughts and continued on her aimless journey through the Red Keep. Before long, the thick stone walls that held her in so claustrophobically were gone and she found herself outside, roaming around the grounds not far from where the gallant knights trained under the day's bright sunlight. But the sun had gone down hours ago and now the grounds were nearly empty. A young squire was the only one outside this late at night and after returning her polite nod, their silent exchange came to an end and Sansa continued on her walk. A brief questioning thought made her wonder where exactly all the knights and good Sers of the castle were when their shifts and daily duties were complete. Surely they couldn't all be crowded tightly in the few pubs and sleazy taverns that King's Landing held. She shrugged off her curiosity and decided they had all already turned in for the night, resting peacefully in their beds so as to get an early morning start the following day. It was a naïve enough answer but what else could be expected of the little bird, sheltered for so long with her family back in the snowy lands of Winterfell.
It'd been so long since she'd even seen home. 'Home,' Sansa thought silently, wondering how much Robb had grown, if her mother had grown at all gray from the stress of all this war. Even Jon Snow came to mind as she wandered past the horse stables, deciding that he had probably been the luckiest one out of all of them, far away from this mess of politics and battles. Arya was still missing, and her younger brothers…She tried not to think of Bran and Rickon. A pair of tiny tears threatened to break free from behind her eyelashes as she wondered if her younger brothers had been given a quick death. She knew their bodies had been burnt until their bones had turned black and their faces unrecognizable, but somewhere in her mind she had convinced herself that they were already dead long before any torches had touched their delicate flesh. It was easier to think of their untimely ends that way, less painful in the long run.
Being in the stables, surrounded by the massive horses of the knights and the King's Guard, her mind came back to Arya. She had always been such a disaster when it came to anything proper and lady-like, but down here in the stables, she would have thrived. She had always tried to tag along with her older brothers, keeping their Septa in such a constant state of frenzy. It would be a difficult task to tame the wild Arya Stark into a true Lady. Sansa smiled and reached for one of the horses, stroking the side of its long neck gently. It was calming and if she could manage to get away from the Lannisters and their guards more often, she would have made it a nightly habit to take a trip down to the stables to pet and groom the horses.
Hearing footsteps outside approaching, Sansa hurried out the back door of the stables, slipping out of sight and walking briskly down a narrow pathway away from the stables. She wasn't certain where the walkway actually led and with a few more strides, the path turned to nothing more than a dirt road turning back upwards towards the Red Keep again. She'd never used this entrance before, never even knew it existed. 'Maybe that's because you shouldn't be here.' Her inner voice warned her quietly. The stone walls in this section of the castle weren't nearly as well-kept. There were chips and holes where chunks of rock had been knocked out or weathered down to close to nothing and no one bothered to repair it. The floors were caked in a thin dusting of the dirt trekked in from the outside. No one bothered cleaning this part of the castle. There was no need. Surely no one of any importance to the King or the Lannisters lived down here; only the servants, handmaidens perhaps, and maybe some low-ranking squires to the Knights of the King's Guard.
She was about to turn around and leave when she heard noises coming from further down the corridor. Sansa froze, trying to make out what the voice was saying but soon realized it wasn't a voice at all, but the sound of lazy feet shuffling their way into a neighboring room. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the large silhouette of a man, obviously drunken from the way his shoulders seemed to be hunched and his need to brace the wall as he all but toppled into his room through the thick wooden door. A woman followed behind him, much more steady on her feet, but she stopped at his doorway and held her hands on her wide hips. Sansa crept closer, minding that her footsteps were as light as she could make them. "Looking for company?" The woman asked in her sultry tone and though Sansa couldn't see her face from this angle, she knew the woman must have been playing at him with her eyes, much like the women did with men they wished to bed.
His voice reached out of the room, past the woman, loud enough for Sansa to hear his reply. At first he only laughed a low, throaty chuckle, one too familiar to Sansa. "Not unless you'd like to warm my bed simply for the pleasure of my pretty face. I've got no gold for you, whore." The woman turned before he could finish, having heard his answer no doubt numerous times from drunken men who had wandered back to their beds after a long night of drinking. If men's gold wasn't spent on the company of women, it had no doubt already been wasted away on wine down in the taverns. The woman left, not bothering to close his door, and Sansa intended to leave as well, but another sound stilled her for a moment longer. At first it sounded like a groan, possibly as he struggled to drunkenly drag himself into his bed where he could sleep off the wine, but when the second grunt reached her ears, it didn't sound as harsh as the first.
Against her better judgment, the eldest Stark girl stepped forward, carefully approaching the open doorway as the sound of a rickety wooden chair reached her. It sounded as though someone had sat down and shifted their weight more comfortably on the seat, but it didn't stop at just one strained squeak. A pattern of noises came from the chair as its occupant leaned back restlessly. A third groan nearly made her jump as she braced herself against the wall next to the doorway. Catching her breath and unsuccessfully trying to settle her nerves, Sansa peeked in front of the doorway just barely enough to peer into the small room. It was simple. A makeshift bed laid on one side of the room, a tall rack holding up his suit of armor properly so as not to damage it when not in use stood on the other side, and in between the two sat Sandor Clegane on the old wooden chair that continued to creak and shift under his weight. His head was leaning back, resting against the wall behind him with his eyes closed. His brows pulled in close together with a stress that she hadn't seen on him before. His eyes tightened as he let out a quieted moan. Sansa drew a hand over her mouth, suddenly untrusting of her ability to silence her breathing. 'You shouldn't be here! Go back to your section of the castle, NOW!' Her brain was screaming with every ounce that it held but she couldn't find the motivation to move her feet from their spot by the door.
Though his burnt, rough face twisted with an obvious strain, it wasn't his face that she was focusing on. Traveling down his front, past his wide chest and the bulging muscles of his arms, her eyes landed in his lap. Between his thumb and his forefinger, held tightly against his palm, the Hound had his manhood firmly in hand. Its thickness seemed to hold it upright all on its own as he stroked it up and down lengthwise. The tip was glistening with a moisture that she couldn't place but his hand kept moving as he pleasured himself unknowingly in front of her. As he let out a low, raspy growl, the noise startled her and she hissed in a breath. It was too loud. She knew it and out of a sudden fear of being discovered, she brought her sight back up to his face.
His head had straightened, his chin returning to its natural position as his eyes flickered open. His hand paused and though his face relaxed in the split second that he first spotted her, it hardened again when the recognition washed over him. 'He sees you! Get moving! Go!' Sansa stood, frozen by the doorway and nearly lost her breath once more when his fingers slowly began to graze over the tight skin of his member again. She watched him stroke it again, gently dragging his fingertips all the way down to the base, resting there for no more than half a second, before reaching his way back up to the tip and starting over again. On his third stroke, Sansa glanced back up at his face. His eyes were still on her, more intense in their stare than they were previously. With a heavy sigh, he lifted his chin slightly and allowed his eyes to lazily blink closed only to open again and find her bright blue Tully pair staring back at him. His lips parted just a hair when the pace of his hand quickened. His breathing became heavier, louder and more labored, but his eyes remained on her.
Her own mouth split open as she danced between watching his face and watching his hand before finally settling on his steady glare. He tried to hold onto the image of her face, her eyes, her pouty lips and her fiery red hair, but the feeling became too intense and as he held his cock firmly in his hand, his eyes pressed closed and he let out a moan deep in his throat. The stress on his face, his brows, relaxed completely just as he gained his release, letting it spill from his engorged shaft and seeping quickly out of the head. It covered his palm and though some thick drops landed on the floor beneath his creaky old chair, Sansa watched only his face. He had seen her, that much was undisputable, and yet…he had continued. Not only did he continue, but he did so while knowingly staring at her, holding her in that moment with him by her eyes, and somewhere inside her, Sansa felt an arousal of her own.
Sandor's eyes remained closed for a moment longer, his head hanging downwards as he enjoyed the last few shivers of his pleasure before it left him completely. He drew in a heavy breath, tucked his manhood back behind the fabric of his trousers, ignoring the laces entirely, and found a rag nearby to rid his hand of his own seed. Only then did he finally lift his head back up to meet the face of the stunned young woman in his doorway. His chest was still rising and falling quickly with his heavy breaths when he stood from the chair and calmly walked towards her. His bottom jaw was shifting slightly, grinding softly to the side as he looked her over for a moment. She didn't move, didn't make a motion to leave or run away like he had expected the little bird to do. Her mouth was still slightly parted and he could see her bottom lip just barely trembling as she was no doubt trying to figure out what a proper lady would say in such an unexpected situation. Surely this was never something her dear Septa had taught her about. He forced back the urge to laugh as cruelly as she was used to, and settled for a satisfied smirk. His eyes burned into her with left over desire, but he addressed her as well-manneredly as a dog ever could, giving her a short nod as he rasped, "My Lady."
AN: Thanks for reading. Leave a review so I know if there's actually a demand for more of this story or not. If not, I'll close this off as a one-shot and leave the rest to myself. Otherwise, there may be a second chapter. xoxo